Obsession with Silence
by stargirl13
Summary: I had to write a "folktale" for english class. It turned into this -and it's definitely not a folktale. It doesn't really have a summary...it's...*sigh* i don't know. About a girl around sixteen who "becomes" mute. Just read it. o_o;;


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Obsession With Silence

Soledad did not choose to be mute, it chose her. That was what she liked to think anyway. Two months after turning fifteen, she woke up one morning and just stopped talking, as simple was that. When requested that she speak, she gave a small shrug of her shoulders. The simplicity of the situation bothered her mother greatly, and sent her to a shrink demanding an answer to her "foolishness". The shrink believed it was the divorce of her parents just a month ago that caused this silent retaliation. Oh, how stupid they were. And wrong. _"'Tis better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt." _The voice had whispered through her mind, and although her vacant expression did not change, she furtively smirked behind her cold, blank mask. There was nothing her mother could do, and Soledad feared this power, to an extent. A shrink would not work, because she refused to answer. The psycho ward (as she so lovingly called it) was not an option, for the fact that she still answered to teacher's questions at school. And so she would laugh at their stupidity and laugh at their attempts to "bring her back". This was no joke to Soledad, for she too wished to know what had caused this sudden silence. School constantly posed as a problem for her…her old friends had gotten accustomed to her silence and just accepted it, her teachers were somewhat worried (perhaps, she thought, they were afraid that she was on the edge of having a nervous breakdown) but the thing that got to her, were the questions…she never answered questions voluntarily, oh no, that would be a sin. Discussions and debates were out of the question. _"Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute, Soledad…so why speak?" _The voice would hiss into her mind, seeping into the cracks of her mind and the moment of wishing to speak, would vanish.

On a grey Saturday afternoon, Soledad headed out of the apartment and walked down the street to the little café just two streets down. Autumn leaves swirled about in an uncoordinated dance on the cement and the wind teased her long, brown hair, twisting it every which way until she finally pulled it back in a loose ponytail and bound the loose strands to cease further annoyance. Although it was October, the weather was unusually warm, and the presence of a storm and the quietness in general made Soledad feel alive inside. _"Those that are silent profess consent, Soledad…" _The voice reminded her again, and so she was content. Making it to the café, she swung the door open wide and breathed in, taking in the scents of coffee, tea, cinnamon and nutmeg all at once, exhaling slowly, letting the air of the city streets vanish from her lungs. Although she never ordered anything, she liked to come here and sit the afternoons away, maybe with a notebook in front of her to make her look like some writer or artist, but mostly just to think to herself and let the day take her. She always sat at a corner table where she could see everything going on around her, both inside and outside. Soledad would watch as people would walk by, watch as people would order their coffee or listen in on conversations. There were all types of people; she could tell by just looking at a person, what their life was like, she thought she had become good at it too. A man in a business suit strode into the place, taking a stance in the line that expressed impatience. His order came out rushed and due to a hold-up in the line, was forced to wait three minutes for his cappuccino. Soledad guessed that he had a wife, and maybe a young child, a boy; his job was of some importance, a lawyer perhaps. A young, Mexican woman stood at the corner of the street outside, parallel to the café. She wore a long, flowing red skirt and high black, strappy sandals. Her shirt was covered by a blue-jean jacket and her black, curly hair in a sinuous movement, black eyes gazing around her. She was slim and waiting for someone. Soon enough, a black Porsche rolled up, sleek and slow, crawling to a halt as it reached the young woman. The reflections of skyscrapers replicating on the spotless hood of the car. The woman threw back her head and laughed, a smile and then she got into the car and they vanished. Soledad watched this scene with envy and amusement; it was like something out a movie. A hollowness welled up, deep inside, the envious feeling coming from the woman's laugh…how she would like so much to laugh again, to express such happiness. _"It is in silence that the soul best expresses itself, Soledad…you don't need words, you don't need a voice…" _The voice came back into her thoughts and so she got up from her seat and walked out of the café, thinking nothing more of the woman, or laughter, or anything at all.

"Soledad! Why won't you talk to me? What have I done to make you angry? What have I done to make you upset? Why are you like this? This is because of your father isn't it!" Her mother cried out to her one morning while they sat down at breakfast. Soledad continued to eat her cereal in silence, staring into the bowl, looking into her milk and cornflakes, as if waiting for an answer to appear from the milky depths. "Your father caused us so much pain -Soledad! Look at me when I am talking to you! Was it your father?!"

_"The cruelest lies are often told in silence…" _She thought silently, but did not say this aloud.

"Soledad! Why won't you answer me?! Was it your father? Why are you like this?!"

_"There are times when silence has the loudest voice…"_

"Soledad! Who has done this to you?" Her mother was nearly hysterical, and this was expected, her mother had the tendency to be histrionic at times, especially since Soledad had stopped speaking. The question echoed through her mind…an eerie echo, there was no voice that answered this time. Who had done this to her? That was a question she had always questioned herself, yet no one had ever asked her this…it was always what had caused this, never a who. Her father hadn't caused this, certainly not. But who? It was an internal conflict that had been caused by -what? She had no answer, it had just happened and now it was gone? There was no whispering voice…she didn't feel shadowed. Could she speak? Her mother was staring at her, the look of a hungry tiger, waiting, hoping…she cautiously began to open her mouth, thoughts spinning inside her head.

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"Keep your mouth closed until your mind is in gear…"


End file.
